The Survival Games
by 100gamesvictor
Summary: Peeta spent the entire Hunger Games trying to save Katniss. But what if he wasn't in love with her? What would have happened if the Star-Crossed Lovers of District 12 never existed? Read and find out...
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is my take on how the Hunger Games could have gone. Just a warning, this is a major AU, and as such, some massive things are different.**

**DIsclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. ALl rights go to Suzanne Collins.**

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><p>The train ride to the Capitol was tense as Peeta and Katniss went over the shock of leaving. The food laid out in front of them was grand and extravagant though only Effie ate. She was she was chattering away at them nonstop.<p>

"I really must say you are my favorite pair of tributes yet," she told them brightly, taking a sip of wine. "Last year's pair was gripping the food in their hands and shoving it down their throats! It completely _ruined_ my supper. At least the two of you have table manners.

Last year's tributes had been from the Seam. Likely neither of them had ever used a fork in their lives, and with a display of cuisine before them such as this, they probably wouldn't have cared.

"Could you tell us what to expect, Effie?" asked Peeta pleasantly, sipping a sweet silvery drink. "Since Haymitch isn't here, and all."

His words set her off on a tangent, making Katniss glare at him. "Oh of course, Peeta," she answered kindly. "Everything here is for you, you know, but once we're in the Capitol everything is bigger, grander, brighter, and yours! You'll start out in the Remake Center to prepare for the Opening Ceremony. You know that. Then there will be three days of training alongside the other tributes so you can prepare for the arena. Haymitch and I will also be there to help you with your strategies-"

"Where is Haymitch?" Katniss snapped. Peeta felt glaring at Effie was unnecessary, but Katniss shot him a dark look.

Before Effie could answer, the door slid open and Haymitch stumbled in. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair disheveled. Alcohol was spilling down the front of his shirt; which was inside out and buttoned wrong.

"Supper?" he slurred, looking at them.

Effie sniffled and her nostrils flared. "Yes, Haymitch," her voice was brisk. "Supper. Now put the vodka down and come join us."

Katniss' eyes narrowed at him. "You're out mentor?" There was accusation in her voice.

Haymitch looked blankly at her, grey eyes glazed. "Whazzat mean? 'Curse Ahm yer men'or!"

His drunken words set her off. "So this old drunk is meant to save us?" her voice incredulous. "He can't even properly button his shirt! He'll do about as well saving us as he did the other tributes of District Twelve!"

Something seemed to snap in him at her words and Haymitch yelled; fist flying out and slamming into Katniss' jaw.

Peeta leapt from his seat, jumping across the table. He gripped Haymitch's struggling arms and pulled him away. He trapped Haymitch in a headlock with his other arm and hauled him out of the room. The man struggled down the hall until Peeta threw him into the lounge compartment. In there, he fell to the ground, rolling and coughing momentarily.

Effie had said the panels by the door would call Capitol Attendants to them. Peeta punched it and there was a light _ding!_

Haymitch was pushing himself to his feet; gasping wildly as he looked around his new surroundings. He had lost his vodka in the hall, but that did nothing for his already drunken stupor.

Taking pity on the man, Peeta led him over to the sofa and sat him down. He had to half-carry him, but he managed to get him to the seat. His head lulled back absently.

A Capitol Attendant opened the door and peeked into the room. "What can I help you with?"

Peeta stood up. "Get me something that'll sober him up. And some food, please. He probably shouldn't be around Katniss right about now."

The man nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you."

When he exited, Peeta was left alone with Haymitch. The smells of various alcohols made Peeta cringe, but he sat himself across from Peeta tensely.

The lounge was lavishly decorated. The sofas were silver and blue throw pillows sat on them. A pristine glass coffee table sat between Peeta's silver armchair and the sofa. A television screen hung on one wall, though it was currently off. A bar was in the corner of the room, but Peeta wouldn't allow Haymitch near that until after they talked.

When the man returned, accompanied by three others carrying trays of food, he held a sterile white bottle in hand. The other attendants placed the food trays, lined with all different kinda of delicacies, on the coffee tables and left.

"This is a fast-acting soberizer." The attendant explained. "Feed it to him and he'll sober up pretty fast."

Peeta took the bottle and nodded. "Thanks for your help." The attendant nodded and left.

Once the door had closed, Peeta rose and stood over Haymitch. Sighing, Peeta twisted off the cap and put it on the table. Then, he pulled Haymitch's limp jaw back and began to pour the thick, frothy liquid down his throat. Haymitch attempted to shake his head, grimacing as he did, but Peeta held it firm. "Sorry Haymitch," he muttered as he poured. His squirming did get some of the liquid splashed in his face, wetting Peeta's hand in the process. With the bottle empty, Peeta waited for the drink to take effect.

Slowly, Haymitch's eyes began to twitch, being pulled open dizzily. With a groan, he pushed himself up, swaying in his seat. The soberizer was working swiftly. "What? What happened?" Already, his eyes were starting to focus and the slur left his voice. Peeta leaned back in his chair. He had never seen Haymitch sober before, he didn't think anyone had, but he imagined him to be somewhat violent.

"You," he breathed. "You attacked me!" Haymitch's voice was deep and gruff when not slurred with intoxication. He stumbled to his feet, raising his fist as he did. When he swung, Peeta moved his head out of the way of the poorly aimed punch and Haymitch stumbled to the ground.

"You're not completely sober yet," Peeta told him matter-of-factly. "But I get the feeling you've been drinking for so long you've permanently ruined your coordination." The man struggled to push himself to his feet so Peeta continued. "I seriously doubt you've gone a day without alcohol in years so you won't beat me in a fight. Trust me. Don't try."

Accurate though his words were, Haymitch wasn't done. "You think you're so strong," he growled, shakily pushing himself onto the sofa. "Let me tell you, Blondie, that won't mean _shit _in the arena."

Peeta smiled. "And now we're getting somewhere." Rising to his feet, Peeta stood over Haymitch. He grabbed a sliced ham sandwich and handed it to Haymitch. "So if strength won't help me, why don't you tell me what will?"

For the first time, Haymitch looked at Peeta not angrily, but appraisingly. A thick black eyebrow raised and he smirked. "Well," he said to himself. Louder "Did I actually get a fighter this year?"

Peeta met his gaze steadily. "Maybe not yet," he conceded. "But if you help me…"

Chuckling, Haymitch nodded. He fell back into the sofa and threw the sandwich down; instead picking up a plate of mashed potatoes and gravy. "Alright," he agreed. "So you care to tell me how I'm sober?"

Nodding, Peeta threw the white bottle at him. Haymitch's chuckle turned to all out laughter when he saw it. "I take it an attendant gave this to you? Ha, fine, I'll make you a deal: I'll stay sober if you agree to do everything I say. The Games aren't a joke, and you'll need me to help you figure them out."

At his words, a weight was lifted off of Peeta's shoulders. Even when he was going through the Games, at least he wasn't completely alone. "Deal," he agreed. "So what do I need to know? The Games are in a week and tons will happen from now 'till then. I need to know strategy, presentation, image-"

"One step at a time," interrupted Haymitch. "Tomorrow we'll be in the Capitol and your prep team will work to make you look good for the Opening Ceremony and other events. It might not be fun, but you'll need it. Looks win sponsors and the Opening Ceremony is the first chance you'll have to impress them. Got it?"

Peeta nodded. "But what about the Opening Ceremony?" he asked. "It's based on district industry and Twelve always looks ridiculous. Won't that turn sponsors off?"

Haymitch chuckled and shook his head. "We got new stylists this year," he told Peeta. "They sent me their designs and trust me, you'll be memorable."

It might have been the chuckle, but Peeta looked apprehensively at Haymitch. "How can you possibly remember? You were drunk."

"They were that memorable."

Deciding to simply trust his mentor, Peeta sat down. "So listen to my stylist. Got it. Can you tell me how to act out there?"

Haymitch shrugged. "Nothing to say except be likeable. Smile, wave, be friendly to the crowd. If you wanna win this thing, they'll need to like you. When they like you they give you money and money gets you gifts in the arena. Plus, the Gamemakers tend to avoid traps on the well liked tributes. It's all about popularity. Keep them interested and you're golden."

"And the other tributes? How should I interact with them?"

His smile was sardonic. "Depends on the tributes and your strategy. If you're gonna hide, then stay away from them. If you want an alliance, talk to them. See who can be useful and work with them. Glancing at the time, Haymitch shook his head. "Let's start the recap. We'll get an idea who you'll be facing."

Attendants had come to take the plates away, leaving the room in pristine condition. Haymitch turned on the television and the anthem boomed. As it did, Effie led Katniss into the room. Both seemed surprised to see Haymitch sober. Seeing them talking, Katniss shot Peeta a dark look.

Peeta rolled his eyes. "He's your mentor, too, Katniss." He turned to the television. "You're allowed to talk to him if you want. I promise I won't stop you."

"Maybe I will."

Effie shushed them. "It's starting."

The reapings varied from district to district, and the tributes did as well. Districts 1 and 2 had some brutal looking boys. District 5's girl, Amber, looked sly and calculating. The girl from 7 looked ill. 10's boy had a crippled foot and had to limp onto the stage. The boy from 11 was massive, starkly contrasting his tiny twelve-year-old partner. Then there was Katniss volunteering for her sister, and Peeta getting reaped. He made sure to commit all the faces to memory.

When the reapings ended, the group sat in silence. Moments passed as they all took in the faces and names. They would be his competition. They were what separated him from home.

"You should get some sleep." Haymitch looked keenly at Peeta. "You'll have a long day tomorrow."

"I want to talk to you before bed," Katniss told him.

Haymitch nodded. "Alright. You stay behind. Peeta-bed."

"See you in the morning," he said, leaving the room. He didn't get far before an arm gripped his shoulder.

"You think you're able to get Haymitch all to yourself?"

"Aren't you were supposed to be talking to him now?" he asked. "I've already told you I don't care if he helps you. So long as he helps me, I'm okay."

Katniss looked incredulously at him. "Then why did you drag him out of the room to talk? You were trying to stop me from seeing him weren't you?"

_Man, that girl was clueless_, thought Peeta. "You two were arguing," Peeta reiterated slowly. "He hit you. I thought it would be a good idea for you guys to separate."

"Why didn't you tell me he was sober?" Katniss snapped. "I wanna survive the Games too.!"

"And that was why I didn't tell you," Peeta shot back. "We both want to win this thing. I'm not gonna go out of my way to make your life easier when I can be preparing for my Games! So no, I couldn't tell you because, frankly, I don't like my enemy knowing my strategies!"

With that, Peeta spun around and stormed into his room; slamming the door behind him.

His room was a sleek silver; furniture, walls and doors the shimmery color. Peeta walked over to the dresser, pulling on black silk pajamas that were, oddly, his size. Changed for bed, he walked into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. The residual smell of Haymitch's alcohol was caught in his mouth and nose and Peeta desperately wanted to get rid of it. Satisfied that it was gone, Peeta returned to his room before freezing.

Hadn't Haymitch said that the prep team would be cleaning him up tomorrow? If he could take a shower, stronger and more efficient than anything District 12 had to offer, then they might warm up to him and make it easier. Nodding to himself, Peeta returned to the bathroom and stripped off his clothes for the shower.

It turned out that the shower was efficient, but incredibly confusing. Peeta didn't know what he was doing and typed a bunch of commands into the panel resulting in random settings. For his efforts, he was rewarded with water ten degrees below freezing shooting out at him from all sides making him cry out in shock. Hastily, he attempted to change the temperature, and his muscles relaxed as the water warmed.

As the water shut itself off, a pink rosy aroma began flooding the shower. Confused, Peeta looked to the control panel and noticed that rose scent was set to fill the room. Huh, he really needed to figure the showers out. Still, the water shut itself off and warm air blasted him furiously from all sides; drying him instantly.

Stepping out of the shower and pulling his clothes back on; Peeta felt oddly naked. His skin felt silky and smooth at the same time; like the shower had peeled off a layer of himself and revealed new healthy skin. It took him a few moments to adjust to the new feeling before he was comfortably lying in his bed, lulling into a deep sleep…

_Peeta stood in a dark clearing. Light filtered down through the canopy of shadows and illuminated blackness. He wandered around for several moments, his feet moving across solid darkness. The infinite black stretched out in all directions. _

_It could have been hours or minutes for all Peeta knew. What he did know was eventually a spotlight formed in the distance. Hurrying forward, Peeta noticed that there was no air to breathe. That meant little to him as he ran._

_Standing in the spotlight was the good looking boy from 1. His brown hair was styled and his green eyes looked coolly over Peeta._

_When he had first seen him, Peeta had thought the boy, Marvel, was deadly. Now he didn't appear to be so. He was smiling kindly and beckoning Peeta forward. _

_He wanted to get closer to the boy. How could someone so handsome have been thought so deadly? It must have just been a mistake from the cameras, Peeta decided. _

_Marvel spoke something to Peeta. His lips moved, anyway. But Peeta couldn't figure out what the words were._

_What__? He tried to ask, though no words came out. _

_But Marvel didn't speak again. His smile grew colder and Peeta gasped as he felt a searing pain in his stomach. Looking down, he was that Marvel gripped a bloody spear that protruded from Peeta's stomach. Feeling his legs give out, Peeta collapsed. _

_The ground was sticky and slushing around, dipping about half his body in the liquid. Turning his head to the side, Peeta saw a figure in the darkness. He desperately tried to make it out, but his gaze couldn't penetrate the darkness._

_Suddenly the darkness faded and Peeta found Marvel, Cato from 2, Triton from 4, and Thresh from 11 standing in a clearing; bloody weapons in hand. They were laughing as three girls came running over to join them. Glimmer from 1, Clove from 2, and Algae from 4._

_Around the clearing, around Peeta, were the bodies of all the other tributes. They were mangled and beaten with holes and wounds cut into their flesh. Blood was flooding from them and various body parts, limbs and organs mostly, were scattered mercilessly around the clearing._

_The group was walking toward him. Weapons were raised as they began stabbing and hacking him apart. Peeta felt warm sticky blood pool in his mouth and a sword descended on his neck…_

Sweat coated Peeta's skin as he shot up. He gasped for breath as he glanced around the room anxiously.

It was just a dream, he told himself. "Just a dream."

He pushed himself out of bed, wrestling with the tangled blankets to escape. Finally standing, Peeta wobbled under his own weight before managing to steady himself.

Walking into the bathroom, Peeta thought over his dream: there was darkness, Marvel, a wound, the Careers killing everyone. How could he have been so stupid going to Marvel? It had obviously been a trap!

Splashing water on his face, Peeta noticed his hair was disheveled and his eyes hauntingly wide. The dark shirt clung awkwardly to his skin, and he felt as if he were still bleeding to death.

For Peeta, the dream was worse than the reaping because it showed his future with haunting accuracy. Almost every year, certainly the last two, the victor was from a wealthy district. In those districts—1, 2, and 4—it was such an honor to win the Hunger Games that most children train their whole lives to compete. The Careers, as they're called, always ally with one another and hunt down the other tributes before taking each other out. Plus, with their experience and training they always take control of the Cornucopia and its treasure trove of supplies at the start of the Games.

It was six-thirty so Peeta shrugged out of his sweaty clothes and stepped back into the shower. Cautious of the various settings, Peeta set the temperature, speed, and smells critically to avoid another debacle. He let out a relieved sigh as the warm water cascaded over his coiled muscles. Steam filled the space as Peeta continued to go over his dream.

How could he win with the Careers hunting him down? They would have the supplies, skills, and energy that he simply wouldn't. He could hide all he liked, but they would never stop looking. Unless…

Pressing the stop and auto-dry buttons, Peeta rushed out of the shower and into his room. He hastily changed into tight pants and an equally tight shirt that was laid out on his dresser, and rushed out of the room. The train was cool, but no one was up yet.

At the end of the hall, Peeta banged on the proper door. For a few moments, nothing happened. And then the door banged open and Haymitch glared groggily at him.

"What do you want?" he snarled, rubbing his head. "It's not even seven!"

His attitude did nothing to Peeta's urgency. "I know it's early, but I need to talk to you."

Despite some choice words about Peeta's timing, Haymitch agreed to talk to him.

He took a deep breath. "I need you to help me join the Careers," he said plaintively.

Of all he might have said, Haymitch certainly didn't expect that. His eyes widened and he said "What?"

"The Careers," Peeta repeated. "I need to join them. It's the only way for me to win."

"Where did you get such a crazy idea?" Haymitch asked.

"Last night," Peeta told him. "I dreamed about the Games. I realized that I'll need food and supplies that I can only get at the Cornucopia. But for that to happen, I'll need to be off the Careers' radar. If I'm their ally, they'll let me get supplies. When numbers go down, I'll take them out when they sleep or something. But they are the only chance I have of surviving."

All was quiet for a moment as Peeta waited tensely for Haymitch to respond. The older man considered his words for a moment before shaking his head. "How will you know when to kill them?"

Peeta shrugged. "When taking them out will bring us down to the final five, maybe. Look, we'll work out the details as we go along, but I'll still need your help with this."

Haymitch scoffed. "This is crazy."

"But you'll help me?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you will, right?" Peeta tried another approach. "You said sponsors were the most important thing a tribute could have, right?" Haymitch nodded so he continued. "If I take out the Careers, sponsors will be lining up to give me money."

Haymitch nodded at his words, leaning against the doorframe to consider. "It could work," he agreed. He looked at Peeta warily. "But you'll have to get their respect. Not just in training, but in the arena, too. You'll have to kill."

Could he kill? Peeta couldn't imagine it. To take someone else's life or die himself. Gulping, he nodded. "That's the whole point of this thing, right?" He tried to sound sure. "I'll do what I have too."

"Then let's prepare.

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><p><strong>So what does everybody think? Just a note, I actually do have the reaping and goodbyes, but They'll spoil something that's going to be revealed later on. So, I'll post that as a special addition when I get past the surprise.<strong>

**I guess that's it for now. **


	2. Chapter 2

**So, here's chapter 2. Quite a few bits of dialogue were taken straight from, or are a great deal like, the books/movies. Frankly, it's just because there's no other reason to change what certain people said.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games**

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><p>The Remake Center was a large building with dozens of rooms to be used by stylists for their tributes. The rooms were sterile white, decorated to the stylist's preference, and set up to allow the three members of Peeta's prep team to maneuver around him whilst fixing any imperfection they found.<p>

Each tribute had their own personal prep team to work under a stylist. In Peeta's case, he had Caius, Remus, and Tineria. They were the ones that greeted him as he entered the Remake Center room.

"Hello," Peeta greeted them with a smile, drawing their attention to him. "I'm Peeta Mellark and the Peacekeepers led me here. I take it you're my prep team."

All three gasped and rushed over to where he stood, leading him over to a chair. They told him to strip, and he did so worriedly. When he sat down naked, they took a moment to go over his appearance.

"You look stunning," Tineria gushed. The woman had sky blue hair frozen around her head in a bob and a wide toothy smile. "I absolutely love your blue eyes. The camera really didn't do them justice!"

Peeta smiled, remembering a similar comment. "Thank you," he said. "My best friend once told me that my eyes were gonna get me dates because my mother would scare anyone away before they could get too close to know me. Personally, I think he was trying to tell me I was annoying." He threw the last bit in to make them laugh.

And laugh they did, all quickly assuring him that he wasn't annoying. Caius, a man with long white hair and pearl-sheened skin was raving about his hair. "It looks like such beautiful strips of gold! It must shine in the sun!"

He made to reply when Remus, a short man with cat whiskers and orange hair cut in. "Oh! and there isn't a blemish on your skin. You aren't leaving much for us to do."

"Perhaps he could use a shave," consented Caius, as he looked him over. "And I'll style his hair to Portia's requirements!"

Tineria looked put out. "Oh! I wanted to do his hair! But I suppose I'll just get his nails filed." Picking up his hand, she grimaced. "Goodness knows they need it."

"Thank you for all your help," he told them earnestly. To Tineria, he shrugged. "I'm sorry about the nails. Being a baker tends to lead to such messy hands. I hope it's not too much trouble." The last part he said just to butter her up.

It worked. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it," she told him. "This is what I'm here for."

"Let's get to work," cried Caius, taking a comb and some gel and moving to his hair.

"Uh, can I get a robe or something?" he asked them hesitantly, hopeful not to offend them. "If that's okay."

It was, thankfully, and Remus handed him a thin robe to put on. When he was ready, the three set to work.

Caius wasn't cutting his hair, he made sure to tell him. The mysterious Portia, his stylist, wants his hair done in a certain way. That way, Peeta realized was up. Each strand was pulled up, and maneuvered away from his face expertly. Peeta watched as the image came together. As each strand was put into place, Peeta could see another lick of golden fire forming on his head.

Tineria was on her knees, filing away at his nails to make them small, perfect ovals. They needed to be functional, she told him, in the arena. At the same time, she fingered the golden bangle around his right wrist.

"Well this is lovely," she told him. The golden bangle was shaped like tongues of fire circling his wrist. "And it'll be perfect with your costume. Where did you get it?"

Peeta smiled softly. "My best friend, Nick, gave it to me for my token. He said it was a good luck charm."

She nodded. "Well it's lovely, and it'll be a hit in the Capitol."

Remus was shaving any and all hair from his face, covering his cheeks in a silvery foam substance as he went. It would stop hair from growing back, he assured Peeta. Another part of his job was plucking a few stray hairs from between his eyebrows. The plucks stung slightly as he did.

When they finished with him, they made him ditch the robe and led him over to a tub filled with a clear, bubbly liquid. It was smooth to the touch as he sat down. They told him not to get his hair wet, and instead took pads dabbed in the water to clear his face. After he finished in the bath, they dried him off themselves and led him over to a floor length mirror.

His skin was smooth and pale, almost glowing. However, instead of looking unnatural, he somehow looked as though he had lost the flaws on his skin, leaving only the good of his appearance. His eyes were wide and shimmering with stunned fascination.

His hair was stunning.

Caius had done an excellent job on it; making it spike in fluid motions like flickering flames. It glowed in the sunlight and looked as though it were real flames. And yet, he had no trouble seeing himself in the reflection. There was no makeup on him and his face was completely visible with his hair up.

"You are all brilliant," he breathed, and he meant it.

"You're really quite handsome as it is," exclaimed Tineria.

Remus agreed. "So handsome."

"There wasn't much to do," Caius squealed. Looking at the time, he sighed dramatically. "Only and hour until the Opening Ceremony."

"It's time to call Portia!" announced Remus, rushing off with the others in hot pursuit. Now alone, Peeta pulled the robe back on and walked over to the large windows.

When he first arrived in the Capitol, it had reminded him of a cake. Everything was bright, and lively, and beautiful but it couldn't be real. It was made to look larger than life, but it wasn't substantial. It was meant to be observed, not enjoyed. It wasn't rich in substance.

The colors weren't like anywhere else in the world, though. He longed to capture the greens and pinks and whites that could only be found here and look at them forever. Hey, if he won he would get to see them again.

It was only when the door opened that Peeta turned around. A woman stood in the doorway that must have been Portia. His stylist had light brown skin with black makeup around her eyes and lips. Her hair was a curly bleached blond that stuck out around his head like a cloud. She wore tight black clothes and a bright white smile.

"Hello Peeta." Her voice was bright and melodic. "I'm Portia. Your stylist."

Smiling, Peeta nodded. "Hi Portia, I'm Peeta. Nice to meet you."

Portia walked toward him. "Likewise. Let's sit down and have some food while we discuss your costume for the Opening Ceremony."

Following her to a table set with more food than even the train, Peeta stared in awe. Catching his look, Portia smiled.

"Help yourself," she told him. "It's all for you."

There had been nothing to eat since breakfast, almost nine hours earlier so Peeta began eating as Portia talked.

"As you know, it's customary to be dressed in accordance to your district's industry. For District Twelve, that would be coal mining."

Every year, District 12 looked ridiculous because there simply wasn't much stylists could do with coal mining. Year after year, tributes were dressed up in silly miner outfits and headlamps. It was embarrassing and did not bode well for Peeta.

"Haymitch said that your designs for this year were memorable." he said, setting down a sandwich. "Apparently it was able to breach his drunken haze."

Portia laughed. "Well I'm glad to hear that it's memorable. Yes, my partner Cinna and and I feel that that doesn't represent the flare of your district." She smirked at the word 'flare.' "So, we've decided to focus on the coal rather than on the mining."

"So what you're telling me is that I'll be dresses as a giant rock." The image popped into his head of him being dressed as a massive lump of coal and he cringed.

Laughing at his reaction, Portia shook her head. "Don't worry," she assured him. "Nothing like that. We were thinking along the lines of coal's uses. What do we make with coal? Fire." Portia's eyes widened and Peeta didn't like where the conversation was going.

Portia spent the next twenty minutes going over the costume. It was a black jumpsuit of sorts with a cape that would be ignited just before the Opening Ceremony began.

"Calm down," she told him as he pulled on the jumpsuit. "It's just synthetic fire Cinna and I came up with. It doesn't burn." Despite her assurances, Peeta couldn't stop his anxiety from building.

When she saw this, Portia rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. "Would you like a demonstration?" She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a vial of clear liquid and poured it on her hands. Then, she took a match from the cabinet and lit it. Her hand ignited, but she made no cries of pain. After a moment of watching, Peeta relaxed slightly.

Still somewhat reluctantly, Peeta nodded. "Alright. Let's go set me on fire, but please don't let me burn."

Portia led him over to the elevator. When the door closed, they shot down. Peeta stumbled as the elevator went down, surprised that it went so fast. True, he had been in it when he first arrived, but he had been worried about his outfit and hadn't truly appreciated the ride. They went from the Twelfth Floor to the bottom in thirty seconds!

Tributes were already in the departure room when they arrived. Most were stuck to their chariots with mentors and stylists nearby. Some were glaring at one another while others were merely staring worriedly into the distance. Peeta looked to the District 12 chariot and saw only Haymitch present.

Importance wise, the Opening Ceremony wasn't the most important thing tributes went through. Stylists simply dressed them all up and put on a parade. The training scores and interviews were better for acquiring sponsors, but Haymitch said first impressions were everything and the Opening Ceremony was the chance to 'wow' the sponsors.

He might have been imagining it, but Peeta felt like the other tributes were glaring at him as he walked by. Portia made him feel better, but Haymitch said he needed to appear independent so he walked a few feet in front of her.

"Good," Haymitch grumbled. Peeta was pleased that he was sober. "Remember, tough and confident. Don't let them think you're scared. Effie and I have been talking to sponsors. If you can put on a good show, you'll get plenty."

"Any advice on how to get the Careers to like me?" asked Peeta, glancing around. "If this is the time for first impressions-"

"Worry about that later," Haymitch cut him off. "Sponsors mean everything. If you can hold your own in a fight and have lots of 'em, they'll want you. I'll even talk things over with their mentors to get you in."

He glanced over his shoulder and sighed. Following his gaze, Peeta saw Katniss glaring at the ground as her stylist and prep team followed behind her. "We'll talk later."

District 12's chariot was black with a gold trim. It was pulled by large coal black horses kept in place by golden reins. Katniss stood next to him silently, glaring ahead of him.

"Remember," Haymitch told them. "Make them like you."

A man came over the loudspeaker. "Tributes, load into your chariots. The Opening Ceremony shall begin in five minutes."

"Ready?" Peeta asked. Katniss huffed and nodded. They made their way onto a chariot when another man came forward. At first, Peeta thought he was a mentor. He wasn't extravagantly dressed like other Capitolites, anyway. He wore plain clothes and had no tattoos or injections. In fact, were it not for the golden eyeliner, Peeta would have assumed he wasn't from the Capitol at all.

"Time to light you guys up," he told them, motioning to the torch in his hand. He took the torch to both Katniss' and then Peeta's capes, igniting them instantly. The fire spread across the entire cape and bathed them both in warm orange light. The other tributes began staring shrewdly at them as they stood. The massive doors swung open and the screaming crowds were heard echoing across the Capitol. The man, Peeta guessed he was Cinna, tried telling them something, but he couldn't hear a word of it.

One by one the chariots rolled out. District 1 was dressed in white and colored with jewels. They looked stunning and Peeta sighed. There was an announcement for them and the crowd cheered.

About five minutes separated each chariot leaving. As the last tributes to go, they would end the night. That was probably a good thing, thought Peeta, as they would stick out in people's minds. Plus, they'll shine even brighter in darkness.

When District 11 rolled out, clad in outfits of bushes and plants, Peeta stood tall. He looked ahead and took a breath. Distantly he heard Katniss sigh, but that meant little to him.

Peeta smiled as they exited the building. There were cries and exclamations from the crowd as they took in their burning appearance. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! The tributes of District Twelve!" As the audience realized what was going on, they started to go wild. Peeta smiled and waved his hands as they cheered for him.

Their faces were projected on screens and Peeta saw that he looked cool and confident while covered in flames. Katniss, not so much. She was noticeably uncomfortable and waved apathetically at the crowd. Instead, she defaulted to glaring ahead and not looking at anybody.

People were throwing roses at their chariot and Peeta caught one, raising it like a trophy. It drove the crowd nuts. They rolled down the streets with cheers on all sides.

"Peeta! Peeta! Peeta!"

As they moved into the City Circle, creating a half-circle facing the president's mansion, people continued to cheer. By this point, the sun was setting; making their flaming costumes even more brilliant and noticeable. The crowd's cheers began to die away as the president walked onto a balcony.

President Snow was a small man with white hair and a beard. Despite his size, he looked imposing while glaring out over the City Circle. After a moment of waving, he began his speech.

"I would like to welcome you all," he said, his voice echoing around the City Circle. "To the Seventy-fourth Annual Hunger Games. To our honored tributes, good luck. And may the odds, be ever in your favor. Good night."

Cameras moved along the line of tributes, standing on District 12 for quite a bit longer than the others as they departed back down the street. The horses trotted into a sub-level of the Training Center, and when they were safely inside, Peeta jumped off his chariot.

Portia came rushing over holding a spray bottle that she used to extinguish the flames. As she did this, she gushed to him. "You were wonderful! The Capitol loved you! Congratulations!"

Effie and Haymitch arrived with Cinna and they, too, commended him on his effort. At least he had done something right.

"As for you, sweetheart," said Haymitch, turning to glare at Katniss. "Good luck with sponsors now that you've shown everyone you're a bitch."

"Leave her alone," Peeta scowled. "Maybe they'll take her disinterest for mysterious."

Katniss sent him a withering glare. "I don't need your support, Baker Boy."

There was no winning. "Fine," he relented. "What do I care if he's honest with you?"

Haymitch guffawed as the group walked to the elevator, small talk being exchanged about the other tributes. The Training Center had a floor dedicated to each tribute, so District 12 was at the top. Their group filled the elevator and they shot up.

Portia offered to help him get out of his suit, the zipper was in the back and covered by the cape, so she walked him to his room and helped him change.

"Everyone's going to meet for dinner to discuss strategy," she told him as he pulled a shirt over his head. "He'll help you each individually with your own strategies, but the general stuff, he'll be talking about tonight."

"So it's the overall stuff?" he asked her as they headed to the dining room.

She nodded. "Basically."

They sat around the table as silent servants in white served turkeys and chickens to them. Everyone ate, save for Katniss' sullen self, and nothing off happened until dessert.

It was a cake with fire burning on top that caused the issue. "It there alcohol on that?" asked Katniss, looking to the servant. "That's the last thing I wan-hey! I know you!"

The servant, a red haired woman, shooked her head vehemently. The adults looked at Katniss oddly.

"Oh don't be silly, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox? The very thought!" Effie sounded almost hysterical.

Peeta looked confused and asked "What's an Avox?"

"A traitor," said Haymitch shortly. "They commit crimes against the Capitol so they're put to work as punishment. They cut out their tongues so they can't talk. It's not likely you know her," he told Katniss.

Katniss was unconvinced. "But !-"

"Delly Cartwirght," Peeta put in, snapping his fingers. "I thought she looked familiar, too. But she's a dead ringer for Delly."

Katniss stared incredulously at him. Come on, he thought desperately. Take the help. Slowly, Katniss nodded. "That must be it."

"Now that that's settled," said Cinna, steering the conversation away from the Avox. "Yes, the cake does have spirits on it to make it burn, but all of those would have burned off by now, I assure you. But I thought it was appropriate for the fiery debut you put on."

"That Peeta did, maybe," mumbled Haymitch into his water, earning a glare from Katniss.

Peeta cornered Katniss in the hall after dinner. "Delly Cartwright," he told her. "Imagine seeing her look alike here?"

"Later," Katniss told him, turning into the sitting room. Effie was turning on the television as everyone settled to watch the recaps. Peeta and Katniss sat on opposite sofas as the seal of Panem appeared and the anthem boomed.

District 1 got massive applause for their outfits. "Not surprising," Said Haymitch, "Luxury goods make it easy for them to look pretty."

"And their, stylists are very talented," granted Portia.

"Though they," Peeta pointed to the screen as District 2 tributes rode out in quarry worker garbs. "Face the same problem District Twelve typically does. Masonry isn't exactly fashionable."

"Maybe not, but they make up for it with training," counters Katniss.

For District 3, the stylists chose to dress their tributes up in suits and dresses made of wire. It was interesting, but not completely fancy.

"They could have done better," Effie said. "Like them." She pointed to the screen where District 4 was rolling out. The girl, Algae, wore a flowing dress like water. Her flowing browm hair cascaded down her back. And the boy, Triton, stood shirtless, his defined body exposed from the waist up with a trident in hand and tight pants designed to look like a fish tail. His bronze hair looked wet with water, and he wore a seashell necklace with wide smirk on his face.

Peeta whistled appreciatively. "At least the stylists know when to show off natural beauty."

"They do show her off quite well, don't they?" said Portia, while Cinna looked at him interestedly. Peeta blushed at his comment.

Districts 5 and 6 were both dull, dressed as scientists and train conductors respectively. And 7 were dressed as trees.

"Well, that's nice," complimented Effie as District 8 rolled out. They are dressed to the nines with the girl wearing a billowing purple gown. Her district partner wore a tuxedo accented with an identical purple.

Cinna agreed. "It's sort of generic, though. They always dress in fancy clothes so it really isn't memorable."

"Which can only help us," pointed out Haymitch.

9 was dressed as farmers. District 10 was dressed like cows.

11 has the most polar tributes of the entire year. On one hand the male tribute, Thresh, was a massive block of person towering over everyone. His district partner, Rue, was a tiny little girl that looked as though she was a fragile branch on a tree.

The two of them rolled out and the others again complimented him on his performance whereas Katniss was mostly ignored. They watched the president give his speech again, and the screen goes black.

The others talked about the possible tribute threats, and Peeta turned to Cinna. "Cinna," he asks. "Are tributes allowed on the roof?"

Cinna seemed surprised, but nodded. "Tributes can go to the roof," he confirmed. "It's pretty windy, but they don't mind."

"Wouldn't they be worried about tributes killing themselves?"

"There's a forcefield to prevent something like that from happening. Why do you ask?"

Peeta shrugged. "Just want some air." And that was that."

Haymitch looked to him and Katniss and said "You should probably get to bed. Training starts tomorrow and you want to be fully awake for it."

Both of them nodded, and said goodnight. Outside the room, Katniss turns to Peeta and said "It's really quiet."

Peeta got the hint. "Wanna go up to the roof? Cinna was just telling me that we're allowed up there. It's really windy though."

Katniss nodded and followed him to the elevator, both shooting up to the roof. Peeta had been right; it was windy. There was a small garden filled with wind chimes on one side of the roof. Katniss walked out to the edge and sighed.

"It was a few years ago," she confessed. "Gale and I were hunting when we saw them. I'm sure it was the same girl. She and a boy were running through the woods. A hovercraft came, and killed him. Then, they took her away."

Her eyes looked over the city, lost in the memory. Peeta felt sorry that she had to see the girl again. She was something Katniss clearly regretted. "You think they were from here."

"They had that Capitol look to them," she confirmed. "But why? Why would anyone want to leave here?"

Conscious of the listening, Peeta spoke loudly. "I'd leave here." His loud voice surprising her for a moment. "I'd go home if they'd let us. But you've gotta admit, the food's fantastic."

Peeta pushed away from the edge. He held out his hand and said "It's getting pretty late. We should go back."

Katniss ignored his hand, but she did follow him back to the elevator. When they reached the twelfth floor, they parted ways.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's the it for the chapter. Like I said, there have been some changes to the events, but really, the real changes will happen when training starts next chapter. Tell me what you think.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**So, Happy New Year and sorry for the long wait. But, here it is.**

* * *

><p>The morning after the Opening Ceremony, Peeta walked into the dining room and saw Haymitch and Effie sitting with breakfast on their plates. Neither was talking, but it was better than arguing, Peeta supposed.<p>

Sobriety wasn't doing Haymitch much good. His eyes were bloodshot and baggy, his hands shook, and he slouched, nearly falling over. It made Peeta feel bad about forcing him to stop drinking, but it had to be done. Still, it was nice to know that Haymitch was putting in the effort.

Haymitch beckoned him forward once he saw him. "Let's talk strategy before the other one gets here."

Peeta did as he was told and sat himself across from Haymitch. "Shouldn't we wait for Katniss?" he asked. "I mean, she'll want to know-"

"This is your strategy," Haymitch told him. "And it needs to be good. The Careers won't work with just anyone. You need to show them some skill. What are you good at?"

Questions like that would typically elicit a modest response from him, but now wasn't the time for modesty. "I came in second in the school's wrestling tournament to my brother."

He nodded. "And?"

Peeta shrugged. "Well, I guess I can lift a lot," he conceded. "The flour bags I have to carry way around two hundred pounds each."

It took a moment for Haymitch to answer. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, here's what you do: show them how much you can lift. Make a show of it. Wrestling, hand-to-hand combat, weight lifting are your friends in the Training Center. Make sure that you work on those skills."

He nodded. "But what about weapons? Should I try to pick up on them?"

"Don't worry about weapons. At least, not yet. Make an impression before you go for the big guns, alright. Once you get in with them you can try some knives and swords, but only if they like you."

And if they don't like him? Haymitch was running under the assumption that he had what it took to win, but what if he didn't? What if they didn't want to work with him?

"Peeta, you'll be fine," assured Effie. "I've already been speaking with my sister Floria, she's a Gamemaker, and she's really very interested in you. Quite taken, I would say. And she tells me she's not the only one. Apparently, Junius Fellon, Lyra Demorrow, and Majora Cantor are all intrigued by you as well."

The names meant little to Peeta, but Haymitch seemed pleased with so much interest from the Gamemakers. Personally, Peeta thought that Effie way just exaggerating, but he smiled at her. "Thanks for looking out for me, Effie."

She waved away his thanks. "It's my job to ensure you have the best possible chance in the arena, and if that means-"

"Talking to the Gamemakers when you aren't supposed to?" Haymitch teased.

Effie's cheeks flushed pink under her powder. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she decided. "I wasn't talking to a Gamemaker. I was talking to my sister. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. Let's change the subject."

Before they could discuss anything else, the door opened and Katniss walked in. Haymitch looked to him and mouthed "Later."

Katniss sat next to Haymitch and pulled a plate toward her. They ate in silence for a few moments, and then Haymitch began. "Now Katniss, your job during training is to keep your special skills, in your case I know that's archery, to yourself."

"How do you know I can shoot?"

Haymitch looked at her like she's stupid. "I drink at the Hob, you know." Katniss blushed at his statement. "Anyway, you need to make sure that the other tributes don't know what your skills are. If they do, they'll know how to fight you. Save archery for your private session with the Gamemakers."

While Haymitch went over his plan for Katniss, Peeta took a sip of the hot chocolate left out for him. It was sweet and sugary, and he downed the entire cup in one swallow. Calling an Avox over, Peeta asked for a second cup.

His mind continued to think of the 'what if's of his plan. What if the Careers didn't want him? What if he was awful at training? Option two would lead to option one, but he ignored that. What if they claimed to want him, but but really planned to kill him in the arena?

It wouldn't do for him to focus on those things. Peeta had compartmentalized his brain to keep hard topics from overwhelming him. Already, his family, morality, and Nick had been shoved inside of it. Now, he took all of the doubts he had and shoved them inside, too. All there was to think about now was his plan to get with the Careers and win.

"Pay attention, Peeta," snapped Haymitch, breaking him from his reverie. Katniss gave him an unsure look as he looked to Haymitch. "This is something both of you need to know."

He nodded. "I'm listening," he insisted. "What do we need to know?"

The man continued. "Surviving in the arena comes down the three things: brains, sponsors, and survival skills. While you're in training, learn to build a fire, both of you. Edible plants and snares are _essential _ if you hope to win. The Careers can fight, but they're hopeless if they can't feed themselves. If they can't and you can." His eyes zeroed in on Peeta. "You're golden."

"What about weapons," he pressed. "Are there any that are easy to learn? You know, the basics are simple."

A moment of silence followed while Haymitch considered Peeta's words. "A knife," he decided. "Maybe a sword. Just try to get a feel for them. Make yourself look good."

"But you just said don't draw attention to ourselves," protested Katniss.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "Not _you_," he spat. "Him. In case you haven't noticed, he's a bit bigger than you. He can't pull off a weakling act. Might as well establish himself as a strong competitor while he can if they'll be thinking it anyway."

Katniss seemed affronted. "And I'm not intimidating?" she demanded, shooting to her feet.

"Sit down," barked Haymitch. "And you certainly don't look it! That is a good thing. Embrace the fact that they won't immediately target you. Pull a Johanna Mason if you can! Pride has no place in the arena so you had better get rid of yours."

"Training time," trilled Effie anxiously, looking between the two. "Come now, you two, it's time to get down to the Training Floor. Let's go!"

"I hope you're not going down with them," deadpanned Haymitch. "How can they hope to look independent for the Gamemakers if they have a babysitter?"

"Well," Effie began, and sighed. "Alright. Let's go."

"Actually," Peeta said, looking to his mentor. "I need to talk to Haymitch. I'll be out in a minute."

Katniss glared at him. "I'll stay to hear it, too."

Was she serious? "I don't want you to hear," he told her plainly. "It's private."

"And…"

"Has nothing to do with the Game you're playing," cut in Haymitch. "Now get out of here so we can talk."

She stood there for a few moments, before storming out of the room. Peeta fought back the urge to feel bad for her. She was his enemy now, and he had to focus on surviving. When the door was closed he looked to Haymitch. "Any other advice that you didn't want to say in front of Katniss?"

Haymitch looked at him with approving bloodshot eyes. "Axes and maces," he said. "They basically require brute strength so they shouldn't be too difficult to figure out, but they're impressive."

"And the Careers would appreciate it," he commented. "They look more impressive than they actually are."

"You catch on quick," commented his mentor. "But you're right. If you can get a grasp on them, you'll probably be able to fool them into thinking you've had years of training."

Peeta speculated over the idea. "Will they notice me learning the skills? they might figure it out if I have problems from the start."

"They won't," Haymitch assured him. "They'll only notice you if you're really good. Bad to mediocre they ignore. If they ask you to sit with them, do it. You'll want to get on their good side while you can."

Effie burst back into the room, positively flustered. "Honestly," she cried. "Peeta only has five minutes to get down to training. So you'll have to finish up what you want to tell him later. Now, move!"

She ushered him out of the room, telling him Katniss had already gone down without him, and that he was likely the last to arrive. "The Training Floor is _L2_ so head down there immediately," she insisted.

He smiled. "Thanks, Effie," he told her. "I'll be fine. I'll see you after training." With that, he stepped into the elevator and watched as the doors closed.

Without the shock of the Opening Ceremonies, Peeta could appreciate the speed of the elevator. It was completely glass: walls, floor and ceiling, and you could watch the floors zip by you as it shot down. Peeta's eyes widened as he plunged underground, watching as the metallic earth rose and swallowed him.

There was a ding and the elevator stopped. Glass doors opened into a uniform steel room with double doors labeled 'Training Room' directly across from him. Peeta's steps echoed around the room as he walked forward. His hand gripped the cool metal handle and he pulled it open.

Inside was a huge room with dozens of little stations lining the walls. Some were lined with weapons and targets, human shaped dummies with markings for organs across them. Others were little nature scenes where tributes could practice survival skills and get a feel for wilderness surroundings. Ropes and swings hanged from the ceiling and beams while moving floor panels and swinging columns made up an obstacle course.

People, experts most likely, were at the stations, but the tributes were in the center. Their heads turned to look at him as he entered. Smiling sheepishly, he waved.

"Don't mind me," he said to the silent room. "Continue."

Most of the tributes glared at him, Katniss among them. The Careers, too, were glaring, but the boy from 2 and the girl from 1 looked him over speculatively. Peeta couldn't keep the slight blush from him cheeks.

"Don't worry," the trainer in front of him assured. "I just started explaining how training will work. I'm Atala, by the way." Turning back to the group, she continued. Peeta walked to join them as the glares subsided. "As I was saying, there are three stations you are required to go to and three tests you must take. Afterwards, you are free to do as you choose. My advice, don't ignore the survival skills. Wielding an axe or sword may look fancy." Her voice was solemn. "But exposure can kill you just as easily as an axe. In fact, forty percent of you will die in combat, fifteen percent from Gamemaker traps, and forty-five percent from the arena itself. Now, feel free to disperse to the stations. Instructors are on standby to assist if asked, but remember, no fighting each other. You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena. Now, let's begin."

Peeta started over to the sword-fighting station. Picking up a long sleek blade with deadly sharp sides, he gripped the hilt firmly as he tried to get used to the weight. The instructor, a woman named Lorna, came forward and adjusted his stance. "If you grip the sword with two hands," she told him. "It gives you more power and control."

"I take it that only amateurs use one hand,"

Lorna chuckled. "Well, it does give a longer extension, but when you're learning it's best to have control."

After about ten minutes of prepping, he stepped into the training circle. Six human shaped dummies surrounded the circle. He raised the sword and swung. It hit something hard and the sword jerked as he pushed it down. He glanced at his target. The sword had embedded itself in the dummy's shoulder, slicing into one of the red dots that represented a lung or something.

Stepping over to the next dummy, Peeta shoved the blade through its stomach. Beads of sweat were forming on his brows and his muscles were beginning to burn. Shrugging it off, he stepped over to the next dummy. Stab. The next one. Stab. The next one. Stab. The next one. Stab. A heart. A lung. The spine. The stomach. He panted as he watched each dummy's light blink and extinguish.

There was a rest area in the Training Room, but Peeta only took a water. Gulping down the cool liquid, feeling the relief as it quenched the feeling in his parched throat, Peeta looked to see where he should train next. _Well_, he thought to himself, _Haymitch said to practice with axes._ With that thought in mind, he walked over to the axe wielding station.

"Excuse me," he said to the instructor. Their name tag read Terminus. "Would you be able to show me this?"

The man, whose eyes were slit pupils and an odd green, smiled. "Of course," he said in a deep voice. He picked up a practice axe and handed it to Peeta. "You see," he explained. "An axe has to be gripped tightly and swung forcefully. It would take too long for you to learn the more intricate techniques, and they're really unnecessary. Just make sure that you keep the blade on target and you don't even necessarily need to hit something vital for it to be damaging."

"Am I gripping it right?" he asked, showing Terminus his hands. The man looked at his grip and adjusted it slightly.

"This'll give you a bit more control when swinging," he told him.

Peeta nodded and stepped into the practice area. Ten more targets. With a grunt, he swung. The blade pierced the dummy's arm, and it hung limply at it's side, useless. Swinging again, higher this time, Peeta cut into the thing's neck. And so it went. It was difficult to measure his skill when the targets weren't moving, but he was at least adept at making very deep cuts. ONe dummy was so mutilated it at pieces of its supposed intestines littering the floor around it from the severity of the wounds. Peeta's arms burned as he worked, but he refused to stop until he had taken down every dummy. When he succeeded, he walked out of the area, thanking Terminus, and carefully ignored the carnage in his wake.

Every muscle seemed to burn in his body and even the water didn't help. He looked around the room for something easy to do. The other tributes were spread out. The Careers and a few braver souls were trying their hands at the weapons, but people primarily stuck to the survival skills. Only the edible plants station was empty, so Peeta walked over to it.

Of what he had done, the test was by far the hardest. It wasn't just moving his arms and directing a weapon. Now he had to deal with memory and similarities between plants. On his first try, the test declared him dead by his third pick. Looking back over the options, Peeta committed the edible ones to memory. Better to know what specifically he could it and only go for that rather than memorize all the pants and risk mixing them up. Returning to the test, he made the correct decision ten out of twenty times. Now looking at even more edible plants to commit to memory, Peeta tried again. Eighteen out of twenty. He took the test three more times, getting a perfect score on both, before moving on. His limbs were feeling better so he supposed he was alright.

Just before he could head to the knife station, lunch was called. There was a cafeteria just off the Training Room and they were expected to eat together before heading out for the afternoon sessions. The perimeter of the room was lined with tables overflowing with food. Tributes moved around said tables, loading plates with what they wanted. Most tributes chose to sit alone, but the Careers sat together, loud and cocky, in the center of the room.

Peeta filled his plate with a bit of food, just a sandwich and a loaf of bread, and walked across the cafeteria. As he passed the Careers, the girl from 1, Glimmer, and the boy from 4, Triton, watched him walk by. Sighing to himself, he walked over to an empty table and sat down.

He was picking apart his bread when Katniss came over. Actually, stormed over would be more accurate. She glared at him as she sat down, looking uncomfortable in the room.

"What do you think you're doing?" snapped Katniss, her voice barely above a whisper. "Haymitch said to stick to _survival skills!_ The Careers are talking about you, I heard them. They're thinking about recruiting you! Now you're a target!"

"So?" asked Peeta calmly, a part of him enjoying her reactions. "Why do you care?"

A blush crept across Katniss' cheeks. "I-I don't! I just don't want you to be a target. You winning would help my family if I can't."

Peeta smiled and leaned forward. "It's fine," he assured her. "I get that you care about your family. That's great. But don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing."

Katniss glared at him. "Fine," she snapped. "I was just trying to help." she rose to her feet. "Get yourself killed. See if I care."

There was just no winning.

With Katniss gone, Peeta returned to his food. So the Careers were thinking of recruiting him? That was good. All he needed to do was succeed in training and he was in.

After throwing away his trash, Peeta returned to training.

His afternoon session consisted of more axe and sword training. Both Lorna and Terminus seemed confident in his abilities. He mostly made lethal hits, but Lorna thought it best to train with an actual person.

The two of them stood in the center of a ring. Both used blunt weapons as they charged at one another. Blade struck blade with a clang as they hit. Lorna was more skilled, using her smaller frame to weave around him and duck away from his hits before they landed. However, he was significantly stronger, and his hits were devastating when he landed them. Once, he used the flat of his blade and pummeled her out of the circle, and ending the spar.

"Wow," she complemented, heavily breathing as she came over. "You're pretty good at this. You sure you haven't done this before?"

Peeta smiled. "I wish," he groaned. "But there aren't any swords in DIstrict Twelve so unless you count playing tribute with my friend Nick when I was six with twig swords…"

Lorna laughed. "Well those twigs taught you well. Oh, no I did that. And it's only been a day."

"That you did," he agreed. "Now let's see how much more you can drill into me." And so they continued.

When Atala announced the end of training, the tributes were told that they were to return to their floors and training would resume the following day at eleven.

Everyone filed over to the elevators. Most seemed to cluster into random elevator cars, but the Careers stuck together and took one for themselves. The girl from 2, Clove locked eyes with him and motioned for him to join them. After a moment's hesitation, he did so.

About ten seconds into their elevator ride, Marvel slammed his fist onto the 'Stop' button. The elevator shuddered to a halt and Peeta glanced around the car. They seemed to form a semicircle as they backed him into the sealed door. Most smirked, but Peeta refused to let them scare him.

"Listen here, Twelve," growled Cato. "We've been talking and figure you could be useful. Doesn't always happen, but we've decided we'll let you join us."

Perfect. Peeta smirked and raised an eyebrow. "At least you know I'll be useful. Most people back home wrote me off too soon."

Glimmer smiled. "Their loss is our gain." Stepping forward, she held out her hand. "You in?"

Smiling, Peeta took it. "I'm in."


End file.
